


The one in which Stiles knits Derek a scarf

by ilse_writes



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Knitting, Not Canon Compliant, Pack Feels, Pre-Slash, Scarves are a safety hazard, Self-Indulgent, Stiles Stilinski Knits, The Hale Pack - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:55:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27796537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilse_writes/pseuds/ilse_writes
Summary: Stiles knits a scarf for Derek. There's more to that than it seems.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 18
Kudos: 198





	The one in which Stiles knits Derek a scarf

He can hear him muttering from the other way of the parking lot, recognises the way he scuffs his heels - right more than left - when he hurries over to him. 

“Oh my god,” the boy exclaims when he is close to him. “How are you not cold in that!?” His arms flail in his direction, as if to point out everything that is wrong with his clothing.

Derek doesn’t look down to follow the disapproving look that lingers on his chest. He knows what he is wearing, was the one that put it on this morning in the first place. It’s not that different from what he wears on any other day: dark jeans, one of his henleys and his leather jacket. Just, clothes. 

“You know why,” he answers, raising one eyebrow at his human packmate. They never talk about it as such; Derek has never acknowledged out loud that Stiles is pack, that he trusts him. He doesn’t have to, he figures, as Stiles bustles into his personal space to pull up the zipper of his leather jacket as far as it will go. As if those last two inches will make a difference. 

“Just because you’re a werewolf doesn’t mean you have to walk around defying the weather,” he chides, hands busying themselves with pulling the creases in his leather jacket straight before he steps back. “I bet you’re using up a lot of energy keeping yourself warm. You could use that energy for other stuff, you know. Wouldn’t have to eat as much either. Dressing weather appropriate might as well save you a trip to the grocery store, who knows!”

Derek pointedly rakes his gaze over the other’s attire. Stiles is dressed in a puffy jacket, topped with a scarf and a slouchy beanie in mismatching colours. He doesn’t have to point out that Stiles is at the supermarket too, despite being dressed as if he’s expecting a blizzard. 

“We were out of Cheetos,” the boy huffs. “I’ve got a big test tomorrow, I need some brain food!”

“Uh-huh.” Derek smirks, knowing it will rile Stiles up.

“Don’t make this about me!” Stiles grouses while Derek gets into his car. “This is about you living under the illusion you have to look tough at all times, even when every other sane person wears a scarf when they go out in this weather. Really, Sour Wolf, would it kill you to wear a scarf?”

“Bye, Stiles,” Derek says before closing the door and starting his car. “Good luck with your test tomorrow.”

***

“What is this?” Derek looks up from the bundle of yarn Stiles pushed into his hands the second before. 

“It’s called a scarf,” Stiles says, already pulling the bundle out of his still hands to wrap it around his neck. The wool is soft and warm and the scarf is wide enough to cover his shoulders, neck and the lower part of his face. Derek gets a nose full of Stiles,  _ Stiles _ ,  _ Stiles _ , and Cheetos. The whole thing smells so distinctly of Stiles that Derek doesn’t know whether to rip it off with his claws or roll around in it. A familiar emotion when it comes to the human.

“I know it’s a scarf,” Derek mutters, working his chin out of the fabric so he doesn’t inhale pure Stiles anymore. The real one is standing no more than two feet away and that’s bad enough already. “Why are you giving me your scarf?”

“It’s not mine, it’s yours!” Stiles beams. “And I got the colour right too, see?” He holds one end of the scarf against Derek’s chest, comparing it to his shirt. “It’s a perfect match to your favourite henley!”

“I don’t have a favourite -”

“Sure you do!”

“I do not -”

“You do wear this one the most,” Isaac pipes up from where he’s slouched on the sofa. There’s a history textbook on his lap, from which he is supposed to be studying. The book is upside down. “I’d say that qualifies for this henley being your favourite.”

“Maroon’s a good colour,” Lydia says without looking up from her book. She’s reading a book called ‘Weapons of math destruction’ and Derek isn’t sure if that is a good thing or not. “It was very much in style last Fall.”

The pack often gathers at the loft on wednesday afternoons to do homework. Stiles was doing math before Derek came in and he ambushed him with the scarf. Derek expects the rest of the pack to come in any moment, their last class ended twenty minutes ago.  
He starts to unwind the scarf, intending to give it back. “Look, Stiles. I already told you, I don’t get cold easily. You don’t have to give me your old scarf.”

Stiles makes a face. “It’s not my old scarf, dude.”

“Don’t call me dude,” Derek says automatically. “And it smells of Cheetos!”

The human smiles apologetically. “I was hungry.”

The big metal door slides open and Erica and Scott walk in, dumping their bags by the door. Boyd follows them, closing the door behind him. Erica dives on the couch next to Isaac, pulling out her phone to show him something, and Boyd disappears in the bathroom. But Scott is just standing there, watching Stiles and Derek with an odd look on his face. 

Stiles turns to Scott, putting his hands in his jeans pockets and rocking on his heels. “Hey, buddy.”

“Hey…” Scott says, sounding distracted. It takes a second and then he is obviously shaking himself into action again. He starts to take off his own scarf, a navy blue one Derek saw him wear last winter too. “You uh, you knitted him a scarf?”

Stiles says “Yes” at the same time as Derek blurts: “You knitted this?”

“Yes to that too,” Stiles says, pushing his hands deeper in his pockets and hunching his shoulders. 

“I thought you said you only…” Scott starts, but Stiles shakes his head at him and he closes his mouth in a tight line. Instead, he balls up his scarf, a knitted one like Derek’s, and stows it away in his backpack.

Erica bounces over, pulling on the one end of the scarf that is still hanging over Derek’s shoulder. “You knitted a scarf for Derek?” she says accusingly. “And you refused to make me one! How come he gets one and I don’t?”

“Perks of being the Alpha,” Boyd says easily, walking past them on his way to the kitchen. He herds Erica in the same direction, taking her away from Stiles who is obviously flustered and Derek who is trying to process everything that seemed to be implied in the last few minutes.

“I didn’t know you could knit,” Derek says eventually, when Stiles refuses to look at him but they stay rooted at the spot anyway. 

Stiles shrugs one shoulder, looking at Derek’s feet. “Mom taught me,” he says quietly. “She knitted a lot when she, you know, when she was in the hospital.” 

He still doesn’t really look at Derek, which is fortunate, because Derek has no idea what his face is doing at the moment. He has visions of a small Stiles sitting at the foot of his mom’s hospital bed, painstakingly pushing the point of a knitting needle through a stitch, his tongue peeking out between his lips. In his vision it’s the maroon scarf he’s working on, although that can’t be true. Stiles probably started on this one after he saw Derek in the parking lot two weeks back and berated him for not wearing weather appropriate clothes. He put time and effort into it, eating Cheetos while he worked on the scarf for Derek. 

“I’m not that good,” Stiles says, some of his usual bravado returning in his voice. He waves his hand at the scarf that Derek is still holding. “But, you know, better than nothing, right?”

Derek looks down at the bundle of knitwear. It looks fine to him, he doesn’t see any mistakes or anything. The yarn is soft and warm and apparently Stiles picked the colour just for him. “I… It’s great. Thank you,” he says and the flush that was just receding from Stiles’ cheeks comes back full force.

He contemplates wrapping the scarf around his neck again and wearing it inside the apartment, but then he remembers how Isaac wears scarves inside and how Stiles always picks on him for it. He carefully hangs the scarf on the coat hook next to the door, together with his leather jacket. 

***

Derek can hear Stiles’ voice inside his head.  _ “Really, Sour Wolf, would it kill you to wear a scarf?”  
_ As it turns out, it does. The fabric is wrapped tight around his throat, squeezing off his airway. The long ends are being held by the feral omega who pushes his clawed feet into Derek’s back for extra leverage. His dislocated shoulder is still healing so he can’t reach back far enough to dislodge the fabric from the omega’s hands.   
He curses himself for still wearing the scarf, even though the bite of winter is already gone. It won’t be long before the buds in the trees will burst open and green leafs will signal the beginning of Spring. He has been wearing the knitted scarf almost religiously all winter and even though the thing mostly smells of him right now, there is still some left over scent of Stiles in there. And Cheetos, although very faintly. The knitwear keeps him warm, as Stiles said it would do, but that’s not the main reason he wears it. He likes how Stiles made it especially for him, liked it even more after he learned Stiles only knitted scarves for the people closest to him. The sheriff has one, in a brown colour that matches his uniform. Melissa has one, an extra wide scarf that reaches down her back like a shawl. Scott has one. And now Derek.   
It’s only after he dislodges his shoulder a second time to try and get to the Omega behind him, that he rips one claw through the fabric that is constricting his throat. The scarf falls to the floor, onto the dirty concrete, and Derek launches himself at the Omega, making quick work of him.

It’s Boyd who reaches him first and he says nothing when Derek walks back into the warehouse to retrieve the ruined scarf. The threads are cut messily and the scarf is unraveling already. 

“I’m sorry,” Derek pushes out when he sees Stiles back at the loft and he sees the way he looks at the cut up scarf in his hands. His throat feels like the scarf is still wrapped around it, making it hard to get the words out. “He was choking me, I couldn’t… I…”

Stiles puts a warm hand on top of his, covering the way Derek’s fingers are digging into the strands of yarn. “It’s okay,” he says, his eyes finding Derek’s and Derek can’t breathe all over again. Stiles squeezes his hand, smiling warmly. “I can make you a new one.”

“Maybe not a scarf this time,” Erica says from behind them, where she is searching the kitchen cabinets for something to eat. “Seeing as they’re a choking hazard.”

“You gotta know how to work ‘m,” Isaac adds with a smirk, running a finger over the scarf he is wearing around his own neck. Derek thinks he got it from Lydia, it’s more of a fashion accessory than winter knitwear.

“I know! I’ll make you a sweater!” Stiles calls out, grabbing Derek’s arms with both hands. “What colour do you want?” And then he’s off rambling about how black would be too obvious, as most of Derek’s wardrobe is black or almost-black. Derek stops him in the midst of saying how sage would go well with Derek’s eyes.

“You can pick the colour,” he says. “Do you even know how to knit a sweater?”

It turns out, Stiles doesn’t. But he tries. And fails. And tries again. Until they’re having a barbecue in the Stilinski’s backyard to celebrate the end of summer and Stiles comes bounding out of the house to shove something in Derek’s hands. It’s a knitted sweater, forest green. The thing is far from perfect, the sleeves a little too long and the body too wide, but Derek puts it on and refuses to take it off for the rest of the night.


End file.
